


Be Not Proud

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: MAJOR SPOILERS.As the boy he helped make into a warrior to shelter him from the pain of the world is dying, Nader remembers the life of his greatest, and favorite, student.
Relationships: Nader & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	Be Not Proud

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my awesome beta [sweetautumnwine](/users/sweetautumnwine), who gave me some very helpful feedback on this piece!
> 
> “Then the boy saw all— / Since he was old enough to know, big boy / Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— / He saw all spoiled.” - “Out, Out—”, Robert Frost

In the blink of an eye, a flash of red, Claude fell limp from his wyvern, dropping onto the pavement with a hard thump.

Just like that.

Dying had never been part of Claude’s plan. But he had never expected to die.

Nader knew well the meaning his commander’s name carried.

—

“Was I wrong to stand my ground?”

Claude stood with his back turned to Nader, facing the port of Derdriu where the ships carrying the navy would arrive in a couple hours, around the same time as the Adrestian army.

“I think it was the right thing to do,” Nader said.

“They—the people of the Alliance—believe in me. But why? Why do they believe in me?”

“You gained their trust. You wrangled all those nobles and settled their arguments, or at least as best as you could.”

“All I did was perpetuate the problem that’s been ruining the Alliance inside out from day one!” Claude clenched his fists. “I couldn’t get _everyone_ to agree with me. We all still picked our own sides. And because of that, Myrddin has already fallen. Derdriu is next. And I have to rely on Teach and Edelgard’s forgiveness and hope they’ll let me live.”

He turned around. His eyes blazed with fury, his brow furrowed, though he was still trying to keep an easy smile. And it looked disastrous, and tragic.

“I’m not going to die here. I have to see my dream through to its end. Edelgard’s goals are noble, but her methods worry me. I can’t let her become misguided with power and take over all of Fódlan.”

Nader frowned. “You think she’ll go that far?”

“I don’t know. I can’t say. But if things get bad…” He shook his head. “I don’t want what happened to Judith, Ignatz, and Leonie to happen to you. I never got to say goodbye. If it looks bad, if it looks like you can’t win, you have to retreat. I’d rather have you lose than have you die.”

Nader nodded firmly. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

—

“Do you know what the hell you just did?!” Nader shouted. The Fódlan words felt raw in his throat.

Across the port, the professor stared at him with a gaze of stone. He hadn’t glimpsed whoever had taken Claude down. All he knew was that Claude was down, and if he were still breathing, it was just barely.

“You just killed the Crown Prince of Almyra, you bastards!”

If Claude said anything, if he was still conscious, Nader didn’t hear it, hear any of his protests. When Nader had visited him in Fódlan before, he had laid out all these rules: _don’t call me this, call me that. Don’t address me as this, address me as that. Don’t dare call me kiddo_. That last one he could never manage. But right now, rules didn’t matter. All that mattered was the white-haired emperor in red with her icy eyes, and the otherworldly professor with the stony gaze.

“So, Claude was also the Crown Prince of Almyra,” Edelgard said. “I knew he was hiding quite a bit, but I didn’t realize it went to this extent.” She gripped an axe that resembled a jawbone in one gloved hand. Its maw was coated in red.

“I am very impressed he managed to hide it for so long,” said the tall, reedy, black-haired figure beside her. “Shall we dispose of his backup?” He swirled a darkness around in his hand that seemed to distort the very fabric of reality.

“Get them!” Nader shouted with his entire being, and as the professor’s ragtag group charged forward, he glimpsed Claude’s steed bending over his bloody body, sniffing it. He never recalled seeing a wyvern with sadder eyes.

—

It was only a month ago that Claude finally received his silks from Nader. With both uniform and sash, he was now officially a man, though he had moved on from being a boy long ago. Since he’d run away ten years ago, awkward and barely a teenager, he’d grown, not only heightwise and facial-hair-wise, but emotionally, mentally. Leadership and the war had weathered him. The same melancholy that now lingered in his eyes, different from the one he’d had in childhood, was the weariness that had been in the eyes of his father, Firouz, after the war. That all seemed like a lifetime ago, before Firouz had met Tiana, when Nader was only Firouz’s closest friend, and not yet a second father to his son.

“Look at you, kiddo,” Nader said once Claude emerged from his room clad in his silks. “A real warrior prince!”

Claude was fiddling with the various flourishes of the outfit, trying to set everything in place and ensure the yellow sash was wrapped and tied properly. He hadn’t said a word since Nader had handed the outfit to him.

“Well? How does it feel?”

Claude shrugged. “Am I supposed to feel different?”

“It’s one of the happiest moments of every young warrior’s life. Some of my students have cried when I’ve given them their silks.” He patted Claude on the shoulder. “I’m overwhelmed that this day has finally come. I’m full of pride and joy for you and how far you’ve come. Don’t you feel the same?”

Claude said, “Hm,” and walked over to the mirror in the sitting room. He adjusted his sash again, then he walked back over to Nader. “It’s a nice fit. Can you take me out to see Sahabat?” His voice was flat, unemotional.

“I thought you’d never ask. Old goat’s been waiting all day.” Nader started outside. When Claude didn’t follow him right away, he turned to face him again. “Okay, what the hell is the problem?”

“I never asked for any of this _shit_ ,” Claude snapped. “I never wanted to have to lead a country. I never asked to be the heir to two countries. All my life I’ve viewed it as some great gift, as some sort of destined providence. And I honestly believe I can use the fact that I have a Crest and the fact that I’m an heir to change the world. Then I remember I’m just Claude. Who’s going to listen to me? Why should they listen to me?”

“Are we really going through this again,” Nader mumbled under his breath. “Isn’t your Crest enough proof that you’re up to the job? And your mother’s name? Besides, you have your silks now, you have your sash. You’re not a boy anymore, you’re officially a man. Your pops is proud of you, so’s your mom, so go get ’em.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. No, I know you’re right. Sometimes I just want to complain. Just to get it off my chest.”

“Are you _only_ going to whine, or are you going to celebrate this occasion?”

Claude bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry. I know. I should be happier, but…”

Nader sighed. “I know. There’s a lot on your mind. If you need to complain, then I’ll listen. But I don’t want you to get bogged down with all these doubts. Focus on how strong you’ve gotten, rather than all the progress you’ve yet to make. Yeah? Now let’s go see that steed of yours.”

Claude paused, opening his mouth for a moment, then closing it to follow Nader out the door. Nader wasn’t sure whether he’d just imagined it, or whether Claude had, in fact, been hesitating on an unspoken “thank you.”

—

Nader escaped the chaos just as one of his most trusted soldiers went down to an axe swung by a kid with flowing orange hair on horseback. With more than half of his men down and Claude in his last throes, running away was the best option, and running was just as good as outright telling his troops to surrender and save their hides. Besides, his wyvern had suffered a mortal injury, and if he wanted to bring Claude home, he would have to ride Sahabat, which was no easy task for anyone not named Claude.

“Retreat!” Edelgard ordered as Nader dashed across the floorboards of the ships. A few horses’ hooves clacked against the wood. He didn’t look back, but he heard his remaining troops disperse with the flapping of wings. He disembarked the second ship and stepped onto the cobblestone. The bells of a cathedral chimed the hours in the distance, a sudden gust of wind chilled his exposed left arm, and Claude lay on his back in the middle of the pavement, eyes closed.

Claude’s chest was rising and falling, very, very faintly, but he was still losing blood. On his right side, his ribs had been cleaved by a large blunt weapon. It resembled an axe wound, but there were shallow tears in the skin. Some of the tears had begun to mend, emitting a faint golden glow as they closed partially or wholly. He might have attempted to cast a healing spell on himself, because a portion of the wound appeared to have closed, but the internal bleeding was likely fatal. He didn’t have much longer.

Nader rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. “Hey, hey, Claude. You still there, kiddo?”

Claude slowly forced his eyes open, slits of glazed-over green. He coughed weakly, turning his head to look up at Nader. “Oh… it’s you. Uncle… Nader…”

“Kiddo—” Nader choked on the word. He hadn’t been called “Uncle Nader” since Claude was probably about five.

“My silks…” Claude reached down and touched his blood-soaked sash, staining the tips of his gloves red. The smooth yellow fabric had been shredded by the teeth of the axe. “They’re ruined. Does that mean… I’m a boy again…”

Nader couldn’t even force himself to laugh at Claude’s weak attempt at humor. “Save your breath. I know that’s a hard thing to ask of you, but you’re in critical condition. We gotta get you across the border. Back home.”

“No…” Claude shook his head faintly. “It’s my time…” He coughed. “I want to return as a pirate… or a sailor.”

“You’re not being reborn yet,” Nader snarled. He untucked his own sash from his waistband, pulling it free, and began to attempt to dress the partially open wound left from the axe’s slash. “You’re coming back with me. Back to the castle, and we’ll get you well there, and you’ll get to see your parents again. Then we can talk about our next move on the Adrestian army.”

“Are… we drawing back?” Claude said, so faintly that Nader had to lean in to catch the end of it.

“Of course we are. You told me to draw back. I already wanted to leave when you got hurt, but my pride wouldn’t let me. You know how a foolish old warrior like me can get possessed by his pride. Now, come on, let’s get out of here.”

“No, it’s not pride,” Claude began as Nader picked him up carefully, one arm underneath both of his knees and the other underneath his arms, then he cried out in pain, clenching his teeth as another small open wound began to glow. “My Crest—it hurts, it hurts!”

Nader grumbled. “Wish there was a way to stop that damn thing from working, ’cause it’s probably doing more harm than good.”

He made his way over to the wyvern and was about to sit down when Claude’s hand brushed his shoulder. “Wait… don’t go yet.”

Nader looked down at Claude. “Why not? What’s the matter?”

“Hilda and Lysithea… Where… Are they… safe?”

Nader swallowed. He’d watched both girls go down during the battle. The Goneril girl hadn’t made it, but he wasn’t certain what had happened to the white-haired one.

“They’re gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to save them. But we can still save you.”

“Oh…” Claude’s lips twitched, as if he meant to frown but was too weak to manage it. Then he reached his hand out beyond Nader. “And Failnaught… is still there…”

Nader looked over his shoulder. A bow that appeared to be made of bone lay on the ground. “Do you want to take it along?”

“You can’t. You don’t have… a Crest.”

“We’ll just have to leave it here. I’m not too worried about any bow right now.” Cradling Claude in his arms, Nader straddled the unusually calm wyvern and sat on the saddle on its back. “This might be a rough ride. Can you sit up, little one?”

“Little one?” Claude laughed bitterly, which quickly turned into a cough and another groan of pain. Then he leaned into Nader, burying his face in Nader’s shoulder, clutching his tunic white-knuckled.

There was a belief in Almyra—the dying prepare for their new life by returning to a childlike state of safety. It had been a long time since Claude’s tears had stained his shoulder like that.

—

The night before he ran away, Khalid had come not to his parents, but to Nader, outside in the stables tending to the wyverns. Nader had been spending more time at the castle as Khalid grew older, training his student in archery and easing him into wielding an axe. The white wyvern in the stables was getting bigger. Khalid said its color reminded him of the white clouds that drifted across the skies. Nader dubbed it Sahabat, and Khalid agreed he liked the name.

“I want to see the world,” he’d said. The night had been dim. Few stars were out, and it was a new moon.

Nader turned away from the small wyvern to face Khalid. The kid had already grown past his waist, but it seemed like yesterday he was still crying for his mother. “What do you mean?”

There were braids woven throughout Khalid’s hair, and it was pulled back into a ponytail. He still had the hair of a child, but his single earring marked him as firmly on the path to adulthood.

“There are things I wonder about. Is everything the same across the border? Across Fódlan’s Throat? How do people live in the Leicester Alliance? And what do they think of how we live? And how about all those people in the rest of Fódlan? And the people in all those island countries, like Brigid and Dagda?”

“Slow down, kiddo. I know you’re curious about all the places you read about in books. You’ll see all of that when you’re a bit older.”

“But I don’t _want_ to wait.” Khalid crossed his arms firmly. He was too old to pout, but everything about his demeanor resembled an upset toddler. “I want to _know_. I _need_ to know.”

“You have to be patient.” Nader set his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think running away from home is a bit rash? And how do you plan on crossing those mountains, little one?”

“I don’t care how dangerous it is. I’m going to cross Fódlan’s Throat, and I’m going to see the Alliance. And stop calling me ‘little one.’ I’m not little anymore.”

“Sure, if you say so, kiddo. You’ll cross it someday. But not right now. It’s way too dangerous.”

There was no going across the border at all, at least not at the moment. Since the flareup a few years ago, Fódlan’s Locket had never been as fortified before as it was now. A trip that risky would have to be planned. His parents would want to know, and he wouldn’t be allowed to go on his own. They would lose their minds if they lost their heir.

But Khalid had accounted for all the details of the trip, and packed all that he needed to bring. Though he hadn’t even turned thirteen yet, all those books he’d read had made him smart. And the things that had happened to him when he was young—the things about which Nader knew very little firsthand, most of his knowledge coming from eavesdropping when his parents argued and thought Nader wasn’t listening—had prepared him even more than the books had. He slipped out of the castle that night without telling anyone. Nader slept through it. So did Khalid’s parents.

Nader got dressed the next morning and had just begun to head out to the castle entrance to get some fresh air when Firouz rushed up to him in the halls, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Khalid is gone, my friend! He’s gone!”

Nader blinked to clear his eyes. “Gone? What do you mean Khalid is gone? I just talked to him last night.”

Firouz grabbed Nader by the collar and pulled him in, his morning breath close to his face. “Last night?” He hiccupped when he spoke, voice trembling. “Where was the last place you saw my son? What did he say?”

Despite the unsettling fear in Firouz’s intense gaze, Nader felt frozen. He was unable to provide an answer because his mind was too full of questions. How had Khalid snuck past the guards? Made it out of the capital? How was he going to surmount Fódlan’s Throat? How would he get enough to eat, and where would he find water? What if animals or people attacked him? Had he taken any weapons with him? And where did he plan to go if he survived?

“You saw him?” Tiana had trailed her husband, and now she made her way over, deliberately and slowly, until she towered over the two of them. Her orange hair looked aflame in the early dawn light, her brow furrowed, green eyes narrowed. Every muscle in Nader’s body tensed. He knew not to get in her way when she was angry. “What did he say?”

Nader was just as scared for Khalid as his parents were. But, remembering all the arguments between his parents, the times that Khalid had come to him injured and pleaded with his mentor not to tell them, and Khalid’s affirmation that he “needed” to know the world beyond the border, he had a feeling Khalid didn’t want them to know.

“He—he said nothing.”

“How dare you lie to us,” Tiana snarled, tearing him out of Firouz’s firm grip and into hers. “You just said you _saw_ him and _spoke_ to him. Tell us what he said. Spit it out or I’ll fight you!”

Nader swallowed, barely processing her angry Fódlan speech with his heart racing in his throat and blood pounding in his ears. He felt lightheaded. “It doesn’t matter.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” She tightened her grip, and he nearly choked. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means that he’s not coming back. He told me he wanted to leave. So he left.”

“But where does he plan to go?” sobbed Firouz. He was pacing the floor, head in his hands, the braid tucked behind his ear swinging as he walked back and forth. “Tell me the truth, my friend. I know you would never lie to me.”

“I already know we won’t be able to catch him.” Tiana shook Nader. “So tell me and I’ll let you go. _Don’t_ tell me, and you grab your axe, I grab my sword and we fight.”

“My moon, you can’t be serious! Letting Khalid run away from us like that? Leaving our people heirless and letting our son walk into danger? We need to send out search parties at once! Nader and everyone else! All the warriors, all the soldiers and fighters, every man with a bow and an axe and a wyvern must go!”

“He’s crossing Fódlan’s Throat,” Nader finally spat out.

Tiana’s eyes went wide. “ _What_?” She let go of Nader, more gently than he’d anticipated, though he still had to regain his balance. “Damn that stupid kid of mine!”

“Where is he going? What is he going to do? Why is he doing this to us?”

When Tiana didn’t answer, Firouz turned to Nader. There was a pang in his heart when his friend’s pleading brown eyes met his, but all Nader could do was shake his head.

“Damn it. Damn it!” Tiana muttered to herself. She stormed off in the direction of the armory and training ground, a groan trailing behind her. Firouz continued to sob, his crying echoing off the walls of the entrance to the castle. Nader stood in place and thought about young Khalid, already on his way to Fódlan’s Throat, and Tiana, already giving up on getting her son to come back, perhaps because she understood that the impulse wasn’t worth fighting.

—

“Hang in there,” Nader said, more to himself than to Claude. Sahabat had been calm, only occasionally a little jittery with fear, the whole ride. They had nearly reached the halfway point of Fódlan’s Throat when Claude began to moan, distressed, and didn’t stop.

“Hold on!” Nader cried, guiding Sahabat toward the ground. Every time Claude convulsed in his arms, he felt his heart clench. Claude would never make it home to see his parents. Without his friends to return to, stuck on the border between countries, he would die, in obscurity, in the woods of the mountains.

That was not a death befitting a true warrior.

After a bumpy landing, Nader carried Claude over to the nearest tree so he could sit up. His blood had soaked through the sash wrapped around his torso. Although he’d stopped his constant moaning, his grimace wasn’t fading from his face. His arms were limp, his eyes still squinted and cloudy. He reeked of blood and sweat, and tear streaks stained his rosy cheeks. Nader pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, and somehow, it felt both burning hot and freezing cold.

“Little one,” Nader said, speaking only in Almyran now that they were completely alone, “what can I do for you? Is there something you need? Anything?”

“Just… stay here,” Claude gasped out, followed by another strained moan. “Hurts…”

“What hurts,” Nader said, more to fill the space than anything, to keep Claude talking and keep his mind off the pain.

“My body… my heart… my soul… my spirit.” Another groan.

Nader pushed Claude’s hair away from his face, smoothing it back, though the one short lock seemed to spring forward of its own accord.

“I wish… I hadn’t.” Claude paused, a break in his breath as if he anticipated another surge of pain. “Cut it off.”

“Cut what off?”

Claude lifted a shaky arm, attempting to point to the stray lock of hair. “My braid. It was…” His arm fell to his side. “A reminder… of home.” He began to cough, softly at first, then intensifying into hacking until a string of blood appeared from his mouth.

“Just breathe. Breathe, little one.” Nader rubbed his back. More than anything, he didn’t want to go back and see Firouz’s face, see Tiana’s face. He didn’t want to be the one to have to tell them, to show them their son’s cold, bloody body. To tell them he couldn’t save him, to tell them he breathed his last in the middle of the wilderness on the border.

Other than Claude’s irregular coughing and Sahabat occasionally snorting or grunting, it was quiet out here, so quiet he could hear even his own breath. He didn’t even hear any leaves rustling, didn’t even glimpse any sign of wildlife. The ground was still littered with patches of snow; a warm spell a few days ago had melted the snow completely in Derdriu. Goosebumps covered Nader’s exposed arm, but he barely even felt the cold, and though nature surrounded them, all he smelled was the scent of death.

“Nader,” Claude whispered, his coughing having ceased.

“Yeah?”

“I have…” He paused to breathe. “My plan… still needs…”

“Tell me what you need me to do. If you need me to take revenge, I’m on it.”

Claude shook his head. “Edelgard… is a good… person.” He coughed again. “I’m sure… she had her… reasons.”

“Edelgard did this to you? The Emperor?” Nader recalled with horror the bloodstained jawbone monstrosity that had pulsed and glowed in her gloved hand.

Claude nodded weakly.

“I’ll kill that woman where she stands. I’ll kill her twice over for what she did to you. What she did to our entire country. Damn that woman. Damn her!”

“Listen!” Claude said as loudly as he could manage. “You aren’t listening.”

Nader shut his mouth. If he’d learned anything in almost fifty-five years of life, he had learned that when he needed to shut his mouth, he’d better.

“Don’t kill her!” He coughed, breath trembling with the effort of raising his voice. “Make peace… work together.”

“Work together?”

“My dream,” Claude began. “Break down all borders. One world… Everyone… live together…”

“That’s a noble dream.” Nader rubbed Claude’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“Never had the time… to sit down… and really tell you…” Claude coughed again, then he moaned in pain. “What happened… when I was young.”

Nader already knew. It was easy to piece together from his parents’ discussions and what Claude had told him when he was a child. Sure, Claude never had told him all the details of what he’d endured. But having spent time being around his parents and training him gave him enough knowledge to understand what had driven him to run.

—

“When my child is born, I want you to train him to be the greatest warrior the world has ever seen,” Firouz had told Nader while Tiana was still carrying her child.

And Nader carried through on that promise. When the boy was young, Nader was mostly occupied with defending the border, but he made time for occasional visits to the castle to see his friend’s son. When the conflict subsided, Nader returned to the castle, and Khalid had stopped dragging blankets and stuffed animals through the castle halls and started to fire invisible bows and arrows.

This change had been brought on not only by any young boy’s eagerness to become a warrior, but something else that Firouz wouldn’t explain to Nader. He only mentioned that Khalid needed to be able to protect himself. At the age of seven? Market day in the capital was dangerous, with plenty of seedy characters abound, but for a child to be in danger that great, especially the heir to the throne, who should have attendants and spies to protect him, seemed absurd. Why did he need to be trained so early?

Nader soon found out why, after eight-year-old Khalid, now on the cusp on nine, ran onto the castle grounds from town one day, late for his usual training time. He was dragging his feet and clutching his side, wincing. His tunic was stained red on his left side, just below his ribcage.

“Khalid, what’s wrong?” Nader rushed over, kneeling in front of the boy. “You’re hurt!”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me. Let me see.”

Nader grasped Khalid’s arms and lifted them, lowering his head to inspect his side. Removing his left arm from Khalid’s right, he lifted the tunic, Khalid powerless to push him away. There was an open slash on his side, a dagger wound, no doubt. Curiously, the wound appeared to have stopped bleeding, but hadn’t closed.

Nader frowned, furrowing his brow. “Who did this to you?”

Khalid hesitated.

“Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was low and flat.

“It matters a hell of a lot!” Khalid flinched at Nader’s language. “You’re the heir. If something happened to you, what would your parents do?”

“Stop worrying! It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt that much. Besides, my magic is going to heal me.”

“Magic?” Nader squinted. Tiana knew some magic; in fact, some of her magic could be used to heal Khalid and was precisely what he would need with a wound like this. But Khalid knowing magic at this age? Fódlan tended to start training its soldiers at older ages. Had Tiana already taught him?

“Sometimes,” Khalid muttered. “Sometimes it works.”

“‘Sometimes’ isn’t—”

A golden, sparkling light suddenly coalesced around the wound, and Khalid winced as it began to close. Nader’s jaw dropped. Was that a Crest? He’d only ever seen a Crest on the battlefield. It was a shock to see a Crest manifest outside of combat.

“See,” Khalid pointed to the wound, almost entirely closed. “My magic healed it.”

“But it only works sometimes.”

“Sometimes is better than none of the time.”

“You make a fair point, little one.” Nader still didn’t know who had done this to Khalid. And even though Khalid had his “magic,” that would only protect him as long as it worked. “But I’m still worried about you. Did you sneak off on your own again, without anyone to keep you safe? Do I need to accompany you the next time you leave the castle?”

Khalid shook his head. “No. If you teach me,” he straightened his spine, defiance shining in his eyes, “then you don’t need to worry, because I’ll be able to fight back for myself.”

Nader continued to worry. He fretted over all young people, from the teenagers in his unit to the upcoming warriors he trained privately. He had been far too young when he and Firouz had witnessed the horrors of war against the Leicester Alliance firsthand. Men injured, dying, sick, starving. Men separated from their wives and children. Men’s dreams turning to dust. And, most horrific of all, the exact same things happening on the other side.

So he told Firouz what had happened, and he said he would consult with Tiana. Nader had asked to be included in the conversation, but after Firouz firmly denied him, though not without an apology, he decided to listen in. He retreated to his quarters and waited until he heard them walking downstairs, then he snuck out, a book tucked under his arm, and seated himself at the top of the staircase, against the inside wall. He opened his book and waited for them to begin speaking.

“So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Tiana said.

“Khalid came late to his training with Nader. He had a dagger wound in his side.” When Tiana remained silent, Firouz continued, “He told Nader not to worry, that his Crest would heal him, and it did. Nader was shocked. He fears…” Firouz paused. “That if Khalid relies too much on his Crest to clean up after him, he will not learn to fight back.”

A moment of silence passed.

“I thought Nader might find out, sooner or later.”

“Why shouldn’t he know? Khalid is his student. He should be there to support Khalid, too. We are trying our best, you and I, but I don’t want Khalid to feel like he doesn’t have enough people around him. The last thing I want is for our boy to feel alone.”

“I don’t want that either. But he’s going to have to learn to stand up for himself.” She sighed, long and drawn out. “I thought he would be safe, because he would grow up _here_. I never expected he would have to struggle to fit in.”

Another pause.

“But there was never a chance of him fitting in, because he was born with a _Crest_!” she shouted. Her sudden change in tone and volume startled Nader. “Nader was horrified when he saw it, and that was a mild reaction.”

“Oh, I was not,” Nader whispered under his breath. He hadn’t been horrified by the Crest, just surprised. What had “horrified” him was the wound.

“What happens when someone who doesn’t know what a Crest is sees it?” Tiana continued. “Or someone who remembers seeing Crests in the war? How are they going to react?”

“I don’t think of the war when I see our boy’s Crest!” Firouz’s words were careful and measured, though he matched her volume and her tone. “His Crest is shaped like the moon. The moon shines, and its light reminds me of my wife, and how brave she is, and how strong my child will become. A Crest is a beautiful and powerful thing! Why would you be ashamed of it?”

Nader agreed. There were a few times during the war when he’d thought a Crest would honestly come in handy. The Gonerils, the family who defended the border, had a strong bloodline with many children who bore the Crest, and anyone without a Crest was usually at a disadvantage against them.

“How encouraging. Thanks.” The anger in Tiana’s voice came out as bitter sarcasm. “Too bad nobody else thinks the way you do. Nobody else looks at me and sees what you see in me. You’re all I have, you and Khalid. And nobody in this damn country will look at our son knowing he has a Crest from _F_ _ódlan_ and accept him as the heir!”

“Tiana.” Firouz’s voice had gone soft, though it retained the intensity of a moment ago. The edges of the book were turning damp under Nader’s palms. He stared past the words, at the carpet beneath him. It was worn down, perhaps from Khalid walking from room to room, running through the halls. “I don’t want my son to get hurt. I want him to become strong, just like you do, so he can stand on his own. And I know my treasured friend Nader is going to do that. For Khalid and for our country’s future.”

“I know.” Tiana’s voice had gone flat again.

“I just—” Firouz sniffled, his composure faltering. “I only want the best for Khalid, because I love him. I have faith he will become an inspiration to his country, and the very people who hurt and injured our boy will one day praise him.”

“I love him, too. And I love you.”

“I love you, too, my dearest star.”

Firouz continued to sniffle, while Tiana remained silent as stone. Nader folded the book shut, slowly rose from his seated position, and snuck back to his quarters, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. This wasn’t the first time Khalid had been hurt. It wasn’t even an accident. The knowledge made his head spin and stomach cramp with fear and rage, not just for Khalid but for his parents, and his beloved friend Firouz, brought to tears by Khalid’s suffering. More than ever, Nader felt determined that Khalid would become the best warrior into which Nader could make him. To protect him from his enemies, to help him grow from boy to man, to save him from the people who hated him.

—

Claude’s breathing was becoming lighter, but it had begun to even out. His pain seemed to be lessening, or at least to the point he wasn’t groaning every few minutes. He seemed to be experiencing an odd bit of peace. Nader still had his hand set on Claude’s shoulder. Sahabat had bent its head to watch its master from afar with golden eyes.

“Nader,” Claude murmured, as if to keep himself awake, “Uncle Nader…”

“Yes, I’m right here. What do you need?”

“Can you… tell me a story…”

“Tell you a story? Oh, well, uh…”

There was a slight glimmer in Claude’s eyes, suggesting he was more alert than he had been earlier. Nader wanted to keep him awake for as long as he possibly could, and the act of telling would keep _him_ sane, too. But a story? What kind of stories were you supposed to tell the dying?

Claude seemed to sense the question on Nader’s mind. “Anything… as long as it’s something… I know.”

All right. He could work with that. Clearing his throat, he began:

“Once there was a little boy who ran away from home. He was only twelve when he ran, barely a man. But the boy was brave, and he crossed high mountains fraught with many dangers to make his way to a new land. When he arrived, he was stunned. This land was full of water, unlike the dry land he’d come from. The trees were tall, green grass and flowers grew everywhere, and rivers and lakes flowed free. Everything tasted different, and he couldn’t get enough of any of the meals he tried. The people spoke another language, and they had strange customs. They worshipped a goddess, and passed stories among themselves about that goddess and the world they believed she had created.

“The boy was amazed at the strange land’s culture. It opened his eyes to a new and different way of life. In time, he adjusted to life in the new land, and he began to get to know the people.”

“He met a teacher he treasured,” Claude added. “But people… people were scared of the boy. They had never seen a person cross the border… and succeed…”

“That teacher helped him a lot. She trained him, and taught him most of what he learned about the new land and about being a strong fighter. So that if anyone ever threatened the boy, he could always fight back, because of what his teachers taught him. He was a very smart boy, you see.” He patted Claude’s shoulder. “He thought in ways most people didn’t. He had a sharp mind, and lots of tricks up his sleeve. He had ways to get along.”

Claude smiled weakly. “But one day… the boy would have to lead two countries… and he still had a lot to learn. So when he was seventeen… he went to school.”

Nader nodded. “The boy went to school. A big monastery in the middle of the strange land. And there he met all kinds of people he would have never met at home. And the boy thought, ‘these folks are a little strange, but hey, they’re pretty nice.’”

“And he got along… with almost everyone. But he couldn’t tell them… what he told people back home…” Claude’s lips trembled, turning into a slight frown. “Even if he was smart… even if he had the will to survive… he was a very lonely boy… in spite of all his friends…”

“Well, _I_ don’t think he was all that lonely.” Nader rubbed Claude’s shoulder. “Even if he was away from home, he had his teachers and classmates. But… he was very scared. And when the war began, the boy got even more scared.

“As it turned out, the boy was the heir to the noble house leading his country. He was forced to inherit it after his grandpa died, and he was afraid. Afraid of whether he could keep his country together. Afraid that something might happen to him or to his people. Everyone was fighting among themselves. It was pretty chaotic. But the boy wasn’t ready to go home yet. He still had things to do.”

“The boy had a dream.”

“The boy had a dream,” Nader echoed, squeezing Claude’s cold hand, eliciting another tiny smile from him. “The boy had a dream. He wanted people to see eye to eye, for everything to be unified, the way it was when the boy went to school. All those crazy people in one place, that’s the kind of world the boy wanted to see, didn’t he?” He ruffled Claude’s hair.

Claude laughed weakly. “The boy wanted all those people to see the new world… with him. Laughing… talking… smiling…” Then he began to cough. His eyes widened as a sudden surge of pain hit, and he doubled over, yelling in agony.

“Khalid!” Nader held him by the shoulders, watching as he bent over, eyes closed tightly, teeth grinding together, hands digging into his thighs.

“This is the worst thing—I’ve ever felt—in my entire l—” The final word of the sentence tapered into an unintelligible moan. He winced, biting his lip hard, attempting to clutch his stomach with a shaky hand.

Nader held his shoulders uneasily, unsure if rubbing Claude’s back would hurt him or make him feel more at ease. Sahabat let out a worried whine, and Nader flashed the wyvern a sympathetic look. The stubborn goat had only ever obeyed Claude—what would it do when its master was gone?

“What happened,” Claude said when he could breathe again, his voice faint, fading. “To the boy.”

Nader’s heart was pounding in his ribcage. His mouth felt dry, and his stomach was cramping. “The boy made the decision to go to war, and it was a hard one. He lost his teacher and his friends, and all he had left was his other teacher, and the promise that he’d eventually make it back over the border. And well, the boy, he, he—”

“Go on.”

“The boy got hurt, bad. His teacher—was—” Nader felt tears welling up in his eyes, a dizzy heat building in his head. He could hear his own voice getting smaller and softer. “His teacher was there to take him away, to a place in the forest where he could die in peace, and then, and then—”

“Finish it. Please.”

“And then the boy left this world, and when he woke up, he—he was new again, years later, in his new world. His memories were only traces, but when he awoke, he was there—there to see his dream realized.”

“How… nice… Th—” Claude’s voice broke off again as he breathed out his pain. “Thank you… I’m glad… you were here.”

Nader broke into sobs, leaning in so his head was pressed to Claude’s as he was doubled over, embracing his weakening body. “I’m so proud of you,” he wailed. “More than I could possibly say…”

“Nader,” Claude gasped, and Nader leaned back so he could see Claude’s face. Claude turned to face him, and his frailty led him to fall back onto the ground from his seated position. Nader propped his head up so Claude could see him, holding one hand with his free hand.

“Make it real… my dream.”

The body went completely cold and limp moments later. Nader sat and stared, cradling the boy’s head in his hand. The cloudy sky had darkened when, at last, his tears ran dry.

—

“I’m so happy,” Firouz cried, clutching Nader’s hands in his own, squeezing them in his excitement. “You have to see. He’s a beautiful child.”

Nader ran in after Firouz to see Tiana sitting in the nursery in a chair next to the window. Dark circles had gathered under her eyes, and she looked as if she had just been woken up. She smiled weakly when she saw them come in.

“Nader. Would you like to hold the baby?” she said.

“Of course.”

She handed the bundle of blankets to him. Small fists punching the air, closed eyes, dark hair, a rounded baby’s nose, a pudgy baby’s face and hands and arms and legs. Nader nudged the baby’s hand with his thumb, watching as the tiny hand curled around it.

“Look at his strong grip!” Firouz said, his shoulder pressed to Nader’s. He brushed the baby’s cheek lightly with the back of his fingertips. “He will grow up to be quite the warrior one day. But for now, he is the most beautiful child there ever was. Isn’t he, my dearest friend?”

And Nader smiled as he thought, there had, indeed, never been a child more beautiful than theirs.


End file.
